OOG: Hey everyone, we'll be moving forward from this mission. Usually, we wouldn't be doing this and would complete the mission and have a debrief. But given the fact that this mission was only meant to open the game up and considering my travel plans, I feel the need to set up the game for greyjedi125 in a direction to where you (the players) can move the game on freely with-out having to wait on me and allow Grey easy management. As stated before, I will have my laptop and will try to get internet access if I can.

Now that this mission is complete, the game will go into the main storyline, so get ready!

oreotragus, sorry for the quick forward ahead after you just joining.

Also, Kimblee is joining our ranks, everyone. Kimblee, since you haven't posted yet, I won't add you're name in on the IC post below (since I don't know where you want to introduce you're character yet), but you will be on the roster. So feel free to jump in regardless!

Greyjedi125 has full control of my IC character Jason Lasso as well.

Oh, as a note, this will be a very long post. Sorry about that.

Work Cited: The Aces' Club idea was gained in part by the cut scene in Ace Combat 4: Shattered Skies (PlayStation 2) that shows enemy pilots taking over a local bar as a hang out place and shows them keeping score of kills on a board.

Storyline Post Three

Darkest Night, Imperial-class I Star Destroyer (attached to Royal Red Squadron), orbiting Planet of Watava, same day of battle, 1 B.B.Y.

Imperial Security Bureau Investigator Hilick Soal kept his face under strained control as he listened to Commander Top explain the news via the hologram projector on the bridge.

"Investigator, the location is right, but no Red Rock found, sir. It looks like people have been here recently..." The helmet-covered Storm Commando had the holo camera turned from him down into the hole below where three Storm Commandos searched over the whole and one of the three searched a pilot's skeleton. The holo camera zoomed in on the fresh prints that the Storm Commandos had been careful not to step on, "...as you can see, Investigator," The camera turned back to the Storm Commando, "What are you're orders, sir?"

Hilick made a motion with his fingers to someone off to his side, "A transport shuttle is being sent you're way with specialized equipment designed to trace even the faintest trail of Red Rock mineral left behind."

"And our orders upon reaching the location, sir?"

"Secure the area and await Stormtrooper reinforcements. Reeducation of loyalty to the Empire may be required."

The Storm Commando nodded, "As ordered, Investigator," As the hologram turned off, Commander Top turned to his three men who all looked up to him through their helmet visors. Commander Top knew what 'reeducation' meant in Imperial terms. And it was his job as a Storm Commando officer to see those orders carried out.

Jason Lasso made his way through the blast doors as they opened to either side, walking down the corridor that went towards the bridge ahead. It had been three days since the actions on Watava. They had completed their mission objective over the airfield, taking out the bombers in an amazing squadron effort that, with the whole squadron behind the attack, took a matter of minutes. But before they could be praised as heroes, they were ordered to retreat back to the Johnny Boy. Although the intentions of this retreat were not clear at the time to the pilots, they became clear very quickly as a whole Imperial Assault Fleet dropped out of hyperspace, declaring this a battle for peace of the Empire. As hundreds

Mira T'saaren peered through the dim and somewhat smoky atmosphere of the Aces Club. She was following behind the other members of The Mercs who had come here to the exclusive club. It was her first time on Port Haven- in fact, she had never even heard of the place until a few days ago. A few days ago... she had dropped into the battle late but managed to get two enemy fighters before the retreat was called. Since then she just had been trying to get settled in with The Mercs while on the ride here.

Making her way to the bar, she ordered a light drink. The light brown liquid swirled in her cup as she picked her way back to where her group had settled down. She wanted to stay close to them- she was unfamiliar with these parts, and didn't want to get into any trouble. At least, before she needed to. She smirked slightly.

Mira also wanted to get to know her fellow Mercs better, and this down time would be helpful for that.

She spun a chair around, and sat down straddling it backwards. Her mother, back home on Corellia, would probably disapprove, but then again she didn't know her daughter had become a mercenary either. Eyeing some of the other groups around, she took in the Duros, and the two other groups of humans.

Her long black hair was let down loose around her shoulders now. She pushed back a stray strand and turned her attention back to her group. There was Captain Taller, whom she had quickly grown to admire and respect. Jason Lasso was nearby, too. She hadn't gotten to know him very well yet, so she tipped her drink back once then motioned to him with her chin.

"So, what do you need Rick?" Pa'bacca asked in his native Wookiee tongue, "Been a few months since I last saw you."

Rick Taller could understand Wookiees as good as he could understand a fellow human speaking Basic. He handed the tall male Wookiee a data-pad and said, "Just basic weapons and ammo resupply, starfighter plating, starfighter spare parts, and some energy cells."

"Not too bad for a few months of deployment. What did you guys do out there, play volleyball and sing to each other?"

Rick laughed, "It felt like that until the last day when everything broke loose. Hey," Taller looked around the store to make sure no one else was inside, then leaned in closer to the Wookiee and whispered, "What's the rumor out of Watava?"

Pa'bacca shook his head and grunted softly back, "Not good. The Galactic Empire has brought 'order' to the planet and 'stabilized' the government. They also have a reward out for any information linking a Marauder-Class Corvette spotted fleeing the planet shortly after Imperial forces arrived. You by chance don't know any mercenary captains who fly a Marauder-Class Corvette, do you?"

"No," Taller said, shaking his head.

"Neither do I," Pa'bacca replied.

******************

Johnny Boy, Marauder-Class Corvette, thirty minutes later, Port Haven

Rick Taller left his pilots to the task of relaxing, while he worked. He was hardly one for sit down time when stuff had to be done. Although they had loaded most of their equipment and supplies the previous day, Taller had found that they needed more of one item or could do with some surplus of another item just in case of repair reasons or trading deals later on.

As he finished with securing the last crate into the cargo hold with a worker drone's help, Terrel Vacks found him as he came through the blast doors, shaking his head, "Don't you know what R&R is, Rick?" He asked, stopping in front of Rick.

Taller smiled with his sweat-stained t-shirt on as he put his hands on his hips, "I guess not. What's up?"

Vacks handed Rick the data-pad he had been holding, "A new contract. Our retreat at Watava hurt us some with business profits, since a few customs who were going to hire us backed out. But we still hold some key contracts."

He started reading through the data-pad, "Our contract stated that if Imperial-lead forces declared this civil war a state-affair for the Empire, then we would pull out. The Watava government signed the contract in agreement with that. It's foolish for us to make ourselves a target for the Empire right now. We need to stay low and cut their legs out

She sat upright from her forward lean on the back of the chair and crossed her arms. ?Looks like The Mercs are in luck, cause now they?ve got two Corellians on board!,? she laughed. ?I?m born and raised in Coronet City,? she added with a hint of pride and nostalgia. When you were off alone on some spacefaring whim, far from your home and family, it was nothing like meeting someone from your own planet. Being away from Corellia for essentially the first time in her life just made her appreciate it all the more.

"So, you been to this place much?" she said, gesturing slightly with her hand while glancing around the room. Her sea-gray eyes lingered curiously on the mixed group of humans and aliens wearing blood-red fighter jackets... something about them seemed a little disconcerting. She waved off the feeling and turned back to her group.

Personality
---Traits: Being raised in a military family, he is not one for idle conversation choosing act rather than speak most times. Like many Corellians, Saracen enjoys playing the odd and testing the limits of his boundaries. Can be a bit obsessive.
---Likes: Playing Sabaac.
---Dislikes: Losing at Sabaac, Droid assisted star fighters.
---Habits: Superstitious

Appearance
---Skin Color: Tanned
---Hair Color: Bald
---Eye Color: Hazel
---Clothing: All black flight suit with the traditional Corellian blood stripe.
---Other Attributes: Not overly handsome but well built.
---Other Details: Has a mechanical replacement of his left arm from the elbow down.

The Force
---Sensitivity: None, if his record at Sabaac is any indication.

Biography
---Personal History: Saracen was born to Major Harm Saracen of CorSec and lived his entire life on a military base in Coronet. From as far back as he can remember his father groomed him as a straighterpilot and being the only child of a demanding father Brett secretly resented every moment of it. At the age of 18, he was forcefully enrolled and shipped off to the CorSec academy by his father where he continued to develop his talents at star fighter combat. With all the potential and pedigree to rise quickly in the ranks Brett was quickly made an officer soon after graduating. But the added responsibility and unwanted attention did not sit well with him as a fight in the officers? mess hall lead to him being demoted. The next ten years played out like a broken holovid, his talent and surname brought him acclaim and recognition but his attitude and quick temper always washed away his gains.

He never rose passed the initial officers rank in CorSec before decided to break off on his own and experiencing the rest of the Galaxy. During and encounter with a gang of pirates operating at the edge of the Corel system, Saracen found the perfect opportunity to make his move. Dumping his load of proton torpedoes, he used the resulting explosion to jump into hyperspace and the great unknown of the galaxy.

---Military History: Ten years with CorSec as a planetary and space defense pilot before going AWOL and eventually landing with the Mercs.

---Traumatic Experiences: Some time in the five years between him leaving CorSec and joining up with the Mercs, Saracen was involved in a star fighter accident which resulted in the loss of the lower portion of his left arm. Though he does not like to talk about it, it is known that the crash involved a malfunction droid-assisted piloting. This not only prompted the use of a prosthetic but is also the cause of his extreme distrust of droids in piloting.

That was it. That was the only information he had on meeting with his new employer, the Mercs. Rumblings at different Cantinas along his travels had them really making a name for themselves are star fighters for hire who were in need of new pilots... no questions asked. And no questions was just how he liked it. Though his official message contained no information on the reason behind change of rendezvous of the Republic of Watava but word had it that the snafu had Imperial involvement. Taking a moment to glance at the chronometer tracking the remaining ten seconds in his final jump to Port Haven.

*According to everything I have heard of Port Haven there is only one place a group of star fighters will assemble on this rock.*FIVE*A Cantina by the name of The Aces Club if I recall correctly.*FOUR*A club full of fighter jocks, just what I need.*THREE*This place might be good from a game or two of Sabbaac, I could always use the extra credits.*TWO*Here we go.*ONE

Placing his hands over the hyperspace controls Seraph eased them back smoothly dropping his star fighter back into normal space. Sensors scans immediately began to register other ships in the area none of which registered as the Johnny Boy. Seraph flipped on the comm system and hailed Planetary Control.

OOG: Found internet access again tonight everyone. Don't know if I'll have the internet once I reach my destination though, so just note that Grey (greyjedi125) will take over my character Jason Lasso if I don't have internet access.

IC: Jason LassoAces Club, Port Haven

She sat upright from her forward lean on the back of the chair and crossed her arms. ?Looks like The Mercs are in luck, cause now they?ve got two Corellians on board!,? she laughed. ?I?m born and raised in Coronet City,? she added with a hint of pride and nostalgia. When you were off alone on some spacefaring whim, far from your home and family, it was nothing like meeting someone from your own planet. Being away from Corellia for essentially the first time in her life just made her appreciate it all the more.

"So, you been to this place much?" she said, gesturing slightly with her hand while glancing around the room. Her sea-gray eyes lingered curiously on the mixed group of humans and aliens wearing blood-red fighter jackets... something about them seemed a little disconcerting. She waved off the feeling and turned back to her group.

"Coronet City? The Big C, uh?" Jason Lasso replied, using Coronet City's slang name that folks from the country side used for the city, "It can't be that bad! I'm from the country side, small towns and farming. Maxhen Kiv and Dernan Vask are from Corellia too...looks like our majority vote is rising!" Lasso chuckled at his own light heartened comment and then added, "Third time here since joining The Mercs...guess you could call it home now. How did you come to join a merry group like us?"

Tag oreotragus

***********************

IC: Chris StreetsBeach, Port Haven

While everyone else was probably getting ready to start the process of waking up with a headache and loss of memory, Chris Streets decided to hold off on losing his brain cells...just for another hour or so. The sun was still out as the planet rotated closer to the evening side for the day during the hot summer days and Chris was due for one more time out on the waves before the sun went down and darkness claimed his surfing for the day.

The blue skinned Chiss was about to go out on the waves when he spotted a starfighter headed on a landing vector for the Johnny Boy. "Looks like that new arrival that Rick and Terrel were talking about..."

Watava was now a thing of the not so distant past and now... they were in Paradise? So why was he feeling so rotten?

Winterkill had not spoken much during the whole trip to Port haven. Not that he usually did, because he was not much of a speaker, but he had been unusually quiet even for himself. The Nagai was not happy about retreating from the fight at Watava, but at tghe mention of 'Imperials', there was clearly little choice in the matter. To make matters worse, they had lost Janice Toller in that conflict, and he wasn't even sure if they'd recovered a body, even though they did give her a in-space funeral and burial.

No, there was nothing to celebrate, except for the fact that the Mercs had to turn tail and run in order to fight another day. This reminded him too much of those days as a survivalist on Nagi during the Tof occupation. Survivors who were caught or injured were left behind on a daily basis, lest they all should perish.

These dark and brooding thoughts kept Winterkill company for the remainder of their journey until they reached Port Haven. Despite this, he did manage to congratulate Havah Jeth on his promotion to Squadron Leader. Despite the nay-sayers, Winterkill thought the arkanian deserved the post. His service record spoke for itself.

Once they reached the unfamous port, Winterkill stuck around to help with reloading and the like. Mostly because it kept him form focusing on dark thoughts...if only a little. When it was time to shore-leave, he tagged along. Soon, they came to the Aces Club. Immediately, Winterkill disliked the place. He looked around and took a measureing gaze of everyone hew saw, his dark eyes narrowing to slits. He also listene din on what was being said of the patrons, their names, races backgrounds and other pertinent information. None of which he liked. These were all predators disguised in some fashion or another as far as he was concerned. Almost instinctively, he placed a hand on the hilt of one of his Tehk'la blades. At the moment he didn'r recall whether or not he'd seen a sign at the door that said 'no blasters', 'no weapons' or 'no droids' allowed. Asd far as he knew, civility was maintained under pain of death, which was actually a concept he supported.

Winterkill followed the conversation closely when talk of the other pilots was mewntioned. He gauged the Duro and most importantly, the Coruscant killers, or Aces, as they were generally known. Winterkill watched the one they called Hunter One taunt Jason, and he could not help but bristle with anger as his companions laughed. He hated how easily they wore their air of superiority and how everyone cowed by their reputation. It was enough to make him want to spit in disgust.

Having seen enough, Winterkill turned on his heel to make his way back to the table were some of Mercs began to sit in when a mocking voice made him stop in his tracks.

"Waaaaiiiiiit, Hold it! Is that a nagai I see in here?" The voice said loud enough for him and everyone else to hear.

"Well, I'll be a Kowakian monkey lizard. And here I thought all of them were wiped out or scattered to the ends of the galaxy for being so frail and depressing. Oh wait, that's right...the nagai were losing so bad to the Tofs that they actually got pitied by Mandalorians who came in galavanting their shinning armour to save their sorry hides! Now that's a neat trick.......for a damsel in distress!"

Uprorious laughter followed. The Coruscant Aces laughed heartely and so did those spineless fools who curry-favoured to them. Ever so slowly, Winterkill turned. He knew that Captain Taller would likely urge him to simply walk away, but he just couldn't...would not let such an insult go unchallnged. Black eyes seemed to burn w

"Third time here since joining The Mercs...guess you could call it home now. How did you come to join a merry group like us?" Jason Lasso asked.

With the death of one brother and the maiming of the other because of the Empire still painful in her memory, Mira didn't want to get into it, so she gave him the short and simple answer: "I just wanted to see the galaxy." She shrugged slightly, and looked down into her drink. "That's all." She took a sip and glanced around the room again.

The exchange between the Nagai pilot, Winterkill, and one of the members of the red-jacketed group had then caught her attention, and she turned her head slightly to observe. She had barely met Winterkill, but the hostile words from the other man already caused a defensive reaction in her for her fellow Merc. Mira bristled slightly, but didn't want to cause any trouble - after all, she had just gotten here.

Octagon?

She gave a quiet look of confusion and concern to her captain and Jason. Just what was about to happen?

Stepping into the smokey atmosphere of the Aces Club was like stepping into a mild nightmare...or out of one. It was hard to say which it was as the lines blurred, waking or sleeping the facts stayed the same.

Lead was dead...never even had a chance to take some with her, and now...now he was lead. He was next to either die or break the cycle, breaking a cycle is hard though, and dieing...dieing's easy by comparision. All he had to do was get someone angry and smart or strong enough to follow through on the job, but if he did that he merely was copping out on his debts.

He owed so many, maybe not monetarily but spiritually and mentally he owed many debts of honor and many favors he owed in return from times past...not to mention the debt he owed to the dead. Now there was a debt that wouldn't fade or dull for a long time yet.

Walking to the bar he ordered up a few items, namely two bottles of Corellian Whiskey to honor the lost leader with her favorite drink, a glass of Accarrgm - otherwise known as Wookie wine and one of the stronger drinks on the market, and lastly...lastly a ryshcate. That old Corellian symbol sweet cake used to celebrate life.

Even though he didn't want to he knew that he needed to to be able to deal with what had happened. Once it was finished, as he had placed the order as soon as comm restrictions were lifted so the waite was short, he started to head over to the Red Sand Panthers where he plopped down one bottle of Corellian Whiskey, "To the fallen, and those left behind to stay the course." He knew they would understand as the previous flight leads name on the scores tally bore the mark of death upon itself.

Although any further reminence was delayed by the flying insult and what Winterkill had responded with. Not good by any look of the matter, or the tally, especially since he had called an Octagon Red-Black match to the other...not to mention he was serious.

Moving toward some faces he recognized, one less than the others but they all belonged now at the impromtu table of the Mercs. "Care to share a slice of...whatever this stuff is?" he said deadpan as he hefted the pan with the ryshcate to those gathered at the table as he used his free hand to stick out his Stohkli-spray stick and tap it just behind Winterkill's retreating form.

It was an invitation to join, and somewhat of a delaying action in a hopes that he could talk Winterkill out of his path. Because if anyone thought that the Coruscanti slimo's would fight fare in a death match...if there was such a thing...was slightly off their rocket.

"I hear it's good. Maybe not as good as a slice of uj'alayi to fill one, but decent." He knew the reference to the Mandalorian uj-cake was a bit of a low blow but the Nagai needed to vent without the murderous flare he knew he had. His hide was still armored so he felt a little better about letting Winterkill using him to cool down with if he needed, and he was farely...hopefully...well maybe maybe just wishfully certain that Winterkill would be able to understand the message and accept.

There was a light tap at Winterkill's shoulder as he passed the table where his fellow Mercs sat, followed by a familiar voice. A pan filled with pastries greeted him once he'd turned around.

"I hear it's good. Maybe not as good as a slice of uj'alayi to fill one, but decent."

Winterkill wordlessly looked to the tray, to stohkli stick and finally to Havah Jeth. He held the arkanian's gaze for a long moment, knowing all the while that his anger was dissipating with every tic of the chrono. Havah Jeth was a respected leader, and one of the few Mercs besides the Captain that had accepted him unconditionally, as far as he knows, when he'd first signed up with the Mercs. Havah Jeth, the Captain and Terrel Vacks. These were the ones who understood him the most and were completely unafraid of him. They knew that he would never 'snap' or bring harm to any of the Mercs. It was never mentioned, because they all knew it. These was his only family. His only home.

Plus, the mention of uj cake had brought on a cascade of memories that were relatively more pleasant.

Wintekill released a long and exhaustive sigh before he removed his hand from his Tehk'la blades and reached for one of the pastries.

He inclined his head deeply to Havah. "Thank you."

Winterkill glanced to his side and saw an empty seat. Next to that seat was one of the newer arrivals, Mira T'saaren if he was not mistaken, to whom he nodded briefly in greeting before turning to Havah Jeth once again.

"I'm not calling off the match." He said simply, almost academically before he sat down.

"He can't get away with saying stuff like that. He just can't."

Winterkill placed the pastry in the small plate before him with care, then simply stared at it, almost accusingly. His eyes narrowed once again. By the look on his face, his mind had gone elsewhere. Havah Jeth could easily guess where. It was the only place it inhabited.

Despite of that, at least the nagai was here at the table and not on his way to the Octagon, alone, where he could be potentially ambushed by 'coincidence'. Not that Winterkill couldn't well take care of himself, but you could never be too sure.

As it was, the chrono ticked away as impartial as always, for now they had 19 minutes before the match... and just as always, life in the galaxy, went on.

Mira T'saaren listened to the exchange between the Arkanian Havah Jeth and the Nagai Winterkill, but kept her attention on her drink. She had always hated being stared at - nothing made her blood boil quicker - so she made it a habit not to stare at other people. However, she had never seen either an Arkanian or a Nagai before, so it was hard not to take in their appearance without lingering too long. It was nothing but inncocent curiousity, but she forced herself to study the way her drink swirled lightly in her cup.

Mira took another brief sip. She was a lightweight, so she never drank too much in new situations like this... just enough to loosen up a little. She still had to get to know her new comrades.

Winterkill gave her a nod as he sat down beside her, and she returned it. She considered asking him about the whole Octagon thing, but decided not to. Her own inferences told her enough. Winterkill had been challenged by the human in the other group... but were those kind of challenges common here on Port Haven? She had fought before when she needed to, but she wasn't in the habit of taking on challenges like the one Winterkill was faced with. She really had to watch her step now... they had just gotten here, and trouble was already brewing.

Mira could think of nothing to say to Winterkill. Besides, as one of the new pilots, she tried to be a little inconspicuous. Looking around her table, she glanced again at the red-jacketed group. From what she'd seen already, her distaste for them was quickly developing.

He felt it rapidly coming on and he needed a quick distraction to keep that mental state from taking a hold of him. He wouldn't be any good to himself or anyone else for that matter if it happened. In that moment, he found it a monumental effort to look away fron the uj cake and turn his head slightly to his left where Mira T'saaren was sitting. Winterkill noticed the familiar manner in which she'd been staring at her cup.

"I guess it must be good stuff..." he said in an off-handed manner about her drink. A half-harted smile formed on his pale face, but soon faded.

"Just make sure not to fall in your drink...I'd hate to go swiming in after ya."

The nagai did manage a wry chuckle then while fully turning his head to face Mira.

Giving a small grin as he sat down next to Lasso, he set down the tray with the ryshcate and Corellian Whisky as he took his own class of Wookie Wine with a small sip, {Wouldn't think of it.} he mimed back in the silent code they used on missions, which Winterkill was so fond of.

Proping the Stohkli Spray stick next to him on the seat he pulled off his gauntlets and flexed his clawed hands, his five fingered hand caught his attention for a moment then as Winterkill spoke. It was amazing what one little deformity such as having an extra finger on one hand could do to you, if nothing else it had been part of the reason why it had been so easy to enter the military. After all what parent wanted a genetically malignate child to be on display in the sciences community.

"Yes, welcome to the Mercs. If you had arrived but a few days earlier I would be honored to get to know you better...but now I'm your flight leader, so that's shot. Which means I still would be glad to over inebriated with you but now I have to be sober to cover this one's tail for the Octagon match." he spoke light heartidly with raised brow and scant grin as he reached out with his normal four fingered hand pick up a piece of the pastry like substance and pop some in his mouth. His solid pupiless white eyes turned to take in her form as he nudged the bottle to Lasso, "Care for some Quagmire?"

For anyone who feels like the game is going too fast, just let Grey or me know, so we can slow it down accordingly.

IC: Jason LassoAces Club, Port Haven

"I just wanted to see the galaxy." She shrugged slightly, and looked down into her drink. "That's all." She took a sip and glanced around the room again.

With a response and body gestures like that, Jason Lasso knew that there was more to the story then just that, which was usually the case anyways. They were all mercenaries, not you're local school teachers and police officers. One way or another they had all went from the straight and narrow path---some of them maybe had never been the straight and narrow type to begin with---of life to outlaws. It wasn't like going from school teacher or police officer to mercenary was an everyday thing. They all had stories as to why they were here.

Jason was about to reply when Winterkill had got himself into a little bit of trouble. "Oh brother," Lasso said, putting his face into the palm of his hand. Bringing his face out of his hand, Jason listened on to the words between the drunken ace pilot and the wordless Winterkill.

"Waaaaiiiiiit, Hold it! Is that a nagai I see in here?" The voice said loud enough for him and everyone else to hear.

"Well, I'll be a Kowakian monkey lizard. And here I thought all of them were wiped out or scattered to the ends of the galaxy for being so frail and depressing. Oh wait, that's right...the nagai were losing so bad to the Tofs that they actually got pitied by Mandalorians who came in galavanting their shinning armour to save their sorry hides! Now that's a neat trick.......for a damsel in distress!"

Uprorious laughter followed. The Coruscant Aces laughed heartely and so did those spineless fools who curry-favoured to them. Ever so slowly, Winterkill turned.

Winterkill looked at the 'Ace', who had a few drinks in him and actually lifted a mug of ale and mock saluted him before laughing some more.

"Octagon. 20 minutes. Red and Black match. Show up if you're man enough."

Winterkill walked by the Merc's table without saying a word. He looked straight ahead and walked by...'casually'. The only person who could keep him from this course of action was Captain Taller. Silently, he hoped that the captain would simply allow him to pass, but somehow he knew it would not be that easy.

It never was.

When Mira T?saaren looked at him with confusion and concern, Jason was about to explain, from what limited he knew about these fights, to her when he was stopped by Havah Jeth.

"Care to share a slice of...whatever this stuff is?" he said deadpan as he hefted the pan with the ryshcate to those gathered at the table as he used his free hand to stick out his Stohkli-spray stick and tap it just behind Winterkill's retreating form.

"I hear it's good. Maybe not as good as a slice of uj'alayi to fill one, but decent." He knew the reference to the Mandalorian uj-cake was a bit of a low blow but the Nagai needed to vent without the murderous flare he knew he had. His hide was still armored so he felt a little better about letting Winterkill using him to cool down with if he needed, and he was farely...hopefully...well maybe maybe just wishfully certain that Winterkill would be able to understand the message and accept.

Wintekill released a long and exhaustive sigh before he removed his hand from his Tehk'la blades and reached for one of the pastries.

He inclined his head deeply to Havah. "Thank you."

"I'm not calling off the match." He said simply, almost academically before he sat down.

"He can't get away with saying stuff like that. He just can't."

He felt it rapidly coming on and he needed a quick distraction to keep that mental state from taking a hold of him. He wouldn't be any good to himself or anyone else for that matter if it happened. In that moment, he found it a monumental effort

Mira smiled warmly at the greetings from Winterkill and Havah Jeth, and her eyes met both of theirs.

?Thanks for the welcome... I?m Mira. It?s nice to have a few friendly faces around. When I decided to be a Merc I figured I would be landing in the middle of a bunch of ace pilot jerks. Not so, I see.?

She brushed her black hair over one shoulder and began braiding it loosely. It hung down to her waist. When she would complete a braid, she would unwind it and restart the process. It was a mindless habit of hers.

She looked into Havah Jeth?s completely white eyes, strangely intrigued by them. She hadn?t known Janice Toller, but his mention that he was now flight leader brought the name back into her mind. She mulled over the though of the other woman sadly ? she died before Mira ever got to meet her. She shook off the uncomfortable feeling she had and took another sip of her drink.

Mira looked up as Captain Rick Taller and Terrell Vacks began to leave, and she assumed they had some business to attend to. Beside her, she heard Jason Lasso say, ?This is not good. Not good at all. Taller usually stops these types of things...but not today.?

She looked at him, then at the others. The time for the match was not far away. She had a feeling that Winterkill could handle himself in a fight, but she got a feeling that the group that initiated the challenge might not be fair players. Her hand moved to her hip and adjusted her blaster in its holster, and took another drink.

Sub-GM OOC: Nice Pic there Oreotragus! Mira's looking mighty fine. Good line work, btw. Now I HAVE to do a pic of Winterkill!

Just letting ya'll know that I will be out most of the day and without internet access. I know, I know, but dem's da breaks. Hopefully I'll be able to post a lil' somethin' shomthin' this evening. *keeps fingers crossed. Gotta run, so see ya'll then. Keep those posts comin'.

Hal walked through the commercial district of Port Haven - he wanted to go drinking with his squadron mates, and he would, but he had an errand to take care of first. His shield booster had been damaged in the battle over Watava, and it needed specialty parts, some the Mercs might not just carry. Not being familiar with the place, Hal took a while to get the lay of the land before finally finding a store in a back alley off the main drag. Walking in, Hal looked around - there was quite a bit of dust on the shelves and a seedy looking Duro behind the counter.

"Yeah, whaddya want?" the Duro asked, looking up from a piece of flimsy he was writing on.

"I need a few parts, electronic stuff. Special," Hal said, putting emphasis on the last word, "Something I might not be able to find in a regular electronics shop."

Raising an eyebrow, the Duro shot Hal a scowl. "You got a list?"

Hal nodded and handed the man a datapad with the list of parts he needed on it. Almost immediately, the Duro's eyes widened and he shook his head.

"Nope, we don't have any of that. And you'd better not be showing that list to anybody else - those are Imperial military grade parts, those are."

Hal rolled his eyes and took the datapad back. "Alright, then, well I suppose if you can't get me the parts, that'll be that. Too bad, I sure expected more from someplace with your reputation," he drawled turning slowly to leave.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Duro thinking about something. "Wait," he said, "Let me see that list again." After Hal handed him the list, he continued, "I don't have any of this here, but I might be able to get 'em. Take a day or two. And it'll cost ya."

Hal nodded and pressed a button on the datapad. "That be alright?" The Duro gave a curt nod. "Alright then, have it delivered to the address in the pad," Hal said, reaching out his hand for the shopkeep to shake. Ignoring it, the Duro walked back behind the counter and Hal turned to leave. Just then, his comlink beeped. After listening to the short message, he let out a curse. It sounded like there could be trouble brewing at a the Aces Club.

Running back out onto the main street, Hal flagged down a transport.

"Aces Club, and make it quick," Hal said, passing a few credcoins to the driver. He nodded and they raced off down the Port Haven streets.

Within a few minutes, the transport was pulling up in front of the club. Hal popped open the hatch and jumped out, walking swiftly toward the entrance. As he walked, Hal glanced down to check the charge on his blaster hung low on his hip. Although he'd never been here before, most places like this only banned firing blasters, not carrying them, and Hal wanted to be ready in case things went south. He could also feel the familiar weight of the vibroblade he carried in his boot. With barely a cursory nod at the bouncer, Hal walked into the club.

He immediately decided he liked it - from the smoky atmosphere to the obvious catering to the various mercenary groups working out of Port Haven, it was a place Hal could enjoy. As he looked around, he saw a few of the various groups around and recognized a few. The Coruscant Aces were well known, and equally well disliked - he'd heard of them even while working with Drea's crew far from Port Haven. The other group he recognized were the Red Sand Panthers, and although he knew little more than their uniform, the fact that a few of the Mercs seemed to be chatting with them Hal counted as a positive mark for them. Spotting a cluster of the other Mercs, Hal decided to head that way. Seeing that there was no immediate danger, he pulled out a cigar and lit it.

Nodding to his squad mates as he joined them, Hal asked, "What's going on?"

TAG: Mercs at the bar

OOC: Sorry for the delay in getting this up guys, I tried to rationalize my absence in this post. Work has sucked recently so I haven't had much of a chance to post. But should be better now!

Dernan was just settling in to his seat at the bar when he heard the Coruscant Aces pilot speak up, and Winterkill?s reply.
?Now that just ain?t fair,? he muttered, somewhat mournfully given that his Corellian Ale had just arrived. Still, until someone offered him significantly more than Captain Taller was paying he was a Merc, and he always looked out for squadmates. Besides which, Dernan liked Winterkill?s style.
He dropped a few credits next to his still full ale, ?looks like I won?t be needin? it now. Damn shame too,? he said as he turned away from the bar and made his way over to the table where some of the others had managed to delay Winterkill.
He dropped into a seat and grabbed a chunk of Ryshcate just as Hal Crawford entered the Club and made his way over, ?what?s going on??
?Oh not much,? Dernan muttered. ?One of those Coruscanti morons insulted Winterkill so now Winterkill is gonna rip him apart in the Octagon.? He raised his piece of Ryshcate in salute to the Nagai, ?we just gotta make sure the rest of the Coruscant Aces don?t try anything shifty before the match can start.?

The HLAF-500 came in smoothly for a landing through the Port Haven's clear skies as it was on approach to the Mercs' Landing Zone. The pilot was already in contact with a crew member manning the comm, while a mechanic guided him in from the ground.

[That's a perfect landing. Welcome to Port Haven, and welcome to the Mercs.]

The mechanic that had been guiding in the HLAF-500 came up to the ship as soon as it'd halted. He patiently waited for the pilot to egress and gave a sharp salute once the pilot's booted feet hit the ground.

"Junior mechanic Sander at your service, sir. Welcome. I can take her from here, if that's ok. If you have special instructions regarding maintenance to your ship, we ask that you be specific. As for Captain Taller and the rest of the Mercs, you'll find them at the Aces Club."

Sander exchanged a few more words before parting ways with Brett Saracen. Tough he'd arrived without much fanfare, things were likely to change, as the Aces Club boasted some of the more interesting and lively Sabaac Tables in the entire sector.

The sound of conversation intermixed itself with that of blaring music and continuous updates from Leader Boards and Entertainment feeds. Drinks flowed freely. Patrons smoked, gambled and made merry. All was as it should be at The Aces Club.

At least on the surface.

The Mercs chatted amongst themselves and with several members of the Red Sand Panthers, but truth be told, the pulsing undercurrent of tension was palpable, even to those who seemed most nonchalant about things. Eyes darted to and fro, gazes lingered as members of several squadrons eyed each other, mostly under the radar. The group getting most looks was that of the Coruscant Aces. Notably, they drew a lot of attention on themselves by virtue of their reputation alone, but after Winterkill's 'not-so-little' exchange with one of their drunken members....well, it just added some more 'interest' to already potentially explosive mix.

Winterkill knew that challenging the other drunk pilot after being insulted was a knee-jerk reaction usually made by newbie flyers, and he'd let his emotions get the better of him, despite his usually cool and brooding demeanor. Just recalling the incident made him seethe all over again, but he breathed his anger out. He had to remain in control at all times if he was to walk out of this alive.

Next to him, Mira looked up as Captain Rick Taller and Terrell Vacks began to leave. Winterkill noticed them as well, but said nothing. The Captain's departure spoke louder than any words he could have uttered at that moment.. Beside them, Jason Lasso exclaimed; ?This is not good. Not good at all. Taller usually stops these types of things...but not today.?

"Not today..." Winterkill echoed in a barely audible whisper. A wry smile slowly made its way onto his pale face.

Someone approached the table and spoke. Winterkill did not look up, but knew who it was by the sound of the man's voice. Hal Crawford came to the table and sensed something amiss.

"What's going on?" he asked, just as he lit a cigar.

?Oh not much,? Dernan muttered in answer. ?One of those Coruscanti morons insulted Winterkill so now Winterkill is gonna rip him apart in the Octagon.? He raised his piece of Ryshcate in salute to the Nagai, who returned the gesture, sans cake. ?we just gotta make sure the rest of the Coruscant Aces don?t try anything shifty before the match can start.?

Winterkill's dark eyes looked up at a nearby monitor that showed the current Octagon match. It was an amber match between an Echani male and a Human. Just by a glance Winterkill could tell that the Echani would soon be declared the winner, which meant that it was

There was always the truth and there were always words that seemed to steal his own. As the rest of the joint continued to pulse with the rhythm somewhat similar to it's usual own, he sat there taking taking in the new recruit and other pilots...being amicable as he could.

Winterkill's glance at the screens played across his feature's much like a holonews ticker announcing, it is time. Although Winterkill then declared as much, and asked for none to follow him, at which Jeth smiled reflexively as he looked to either side of himself...as if to point out that he had been boxed in and couldn't follow.

In his mind he knew what he would do, and what would likely happen if Winterkill died today. Namely that there would be more deaths, more to join him in the 'great mind' or whatever it was that that Nagai believed in.

As Winterkill left he turned back, freezing Jeth's hands as they were undoing his helmet from the side of his suit, the sign was clear, even if the Nagai used it almost as a mantra...death was due today. The words he gave back were simple, No Survivor's.

It panged his heart a little to make that sign, but as Winterkill left he sighed before strapping and locking his helmet on in place, standing he put one foot on the seat to stand up in the air before planting one in the middle of the table next to the plate of pastries. "Lasso, call Street and tell him to observe the path from here to the Octagon if he could."

The next step landed him off the table on the ground where he turned around as he reslung his Stohkli Spray stick, "It was a pleasure everyone, and as for ego's there are plenty." his smile died after that comment as visions of his own ghosts danced before his minds eye, "Just some beginnings were to kill someone while being close enough to have to wear them until they got home. As Winterkill is about to. That...that kill's most ego's."

Somberly he turned and walked out, trailing Winterkill at a short gap, shadowing him as some called it. If anything happened he would be there to back him up.

Mira T?saaren nodded in acknowledgement to the other Merc that approached their table ? Hal Crawford, she believed. She watched the exchange between him and the other man she had met briefly before, Dernan Vask. She sized them up coolly as she took another sip of her drink.

Her thoughts turned again to the Octagon match? it was almost time. She looked up at Winterkill expectantly, and followed his gaze to the monitor showing what appeared to be the current Octagon match. The Human in the fight was apparently losing, by the looks of him.

"The time has come for me to go to the Octagon and put in my challenge. I have no doubt that my match will be granted immediatelly. Black and Red matches take precedence over all others. For those of you who are the betting type, I suggest you place a decent wager." At this, Winterkill gave a mischievous grin. "You won't be disappointed." The nagai's gaze then returned to the large view screen across from them., Winterkill said, rising from his chair.

"Those of you who wish to stay and watch from here, will be able to see the match on that screen.", he added.

He mentioned that no one should follow him, and Mira realized how that would probably go over. She barely knew him, and she had already decided against his wishes. Watching Havah Jeth put his helmet on, she glanced around the group for the others? reactions. She assumed most of them would follow their fellow Merc, Winterkill, even if it meant endangering themselves. She knew that the thought of herself staying behind and watching the fight from the club was definitely out the question - she wasn't just going to sit back and watch if things started to turn south.

As Jeth followed his comrade, Mira downed the last of her liquid confidence and set it firmly on the table. She deftly braided her long hair back out of the way and stood up, resettling her blaster holster as she did so. This was more a sign to the others of her intentions rather than out of necessity. She glanced once more at her group, then turned and walked out of the Aces Club. If Havah Jeth was going to follow Winterkill, then she would follow him. Even if it was mostly out of curiosity, she could definitely handle herself in a scuffle.

Hey everyone, we have a roster update here. Please take note of the OOG (Roster Update) at the bottom of this post for details. There's been a few important changes that everyone needs to read about. Thanks.

IC: Jason LassoAces Club, Port Haven

Jason Lasso listened in on the on-goings, taking note of Mira's adjustment of her blaster pistol. Just out of reaction, Jason ran a hand over his blaster pistol, making sure it was still there. Crawford came up just then, asking what was going on. Dernan Vask gave him a reply that summed up pretty much everything, including all the other Mercs' jobs in this fight that Winterkill was going to.

Jason grabbed a piece of ryshcate and as he took a bite, Winterkill spoke, "The time has come for me to go to the Octagon and put in my challenge. I have no doubt that my match will be granted immediatelly. Black and Red matches take precedence over all others. For those of you who are the betting type, I suggest you place a decent wager." At this, Winterkill gave a mischievous grin. "You won't be disappointed." The nagai's gaze then returned to the large view screen across from them.

"Those of you who wish to stay and watch from here, will be able to see the match on that screen."

Just then Havah's boot came a step too close for comfort of smashing the ryshcate. He then gave Lasso some business to get onto: "Lasso, call Street and tell him to observe the path from here to the Octagon if he could."

"You got it boss," Lasso said and turned to Mira, "Be right back," Taking his water and ryshcate, Lasso made his way out of Aces Club and onto the sandy beach, where the sun was making its last stand along the horizon before night overtook it. The Johnny Boy was silhouetted against such a beautiful sight of the evening sky. Another space craft shared the silhouette with a pilot disembarking the starfighter with a ground crew member welcoming him, but a bit off to the side of the Johnny Boy, in a form of a new arrival Lasso assumed.

Nodding to the two security Battle Droids at the bottom of the landing ramp, Jason made his way up into the ship, walking past various patrolling security Battle Droids and other crew members before roaming the ship, asking everyone where he could find Streets. It was said the Chiss had retreated into the briefing room with Taller and Vacks.

Retracing some of his steps, he found himself outside the briefing room with a single security Battle Droid guarding the door. Lasso pounded on the door and he could hear Vacks' voice, "Who is it!?"

"Lasso, sir!" Jason replied.

A few moments later the door lock was disengaged and the blast door slid open with Streets standing by the door.

"Come on it Jason," Rick said, "I got some changes to you're Flight."

As he stepped inside, Jason turned to Streets, "Sir, Lieutenant Jeth wanted me to pass on word to have you observe the path to the Octagon."

It must have been an inside joke when Taller, Vacks, and Streets all started smirking and trying to hold in a laugh with which all of them pretty much failed at, because Jason didn't understand how what he said was so funny.

"I told you Rick, once you gave Jeth that promotion that he would be ordering even you and me around!" Shaking his head with a funny smile on his face, he started his way out of the briefing room and waved a hand back to everyone, "I'll be up on some roof somewhere."

As the Chiss left, Jason closed the door behind him. Taller and Vacks collected themselves from their laughing.

"We'll be sending a roster update to all of you're data-pads shortly, Lasso. But here's what the Mercs looks like now," Taller hit a button and from the circular holo projector station in the middle of the room that he and Vacks were standing on opposite sides of, a running down list of the Mercs roster